Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 23, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 November 1886 — Page 3

THE -MAIL.

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

THINK IT OVER.

TSerer do thing* In a hurry, Take your time, And labor well *, And, when matters of Importance Press you more than you can|tell,

Vever rashly make Your mind up

Whether you shall buy or sell, Vh Ink It over.

Yet to halt'twlxt two opinions When you know Which one Is right. Is a wrong step, and along one, Into darkness, from the light.

And lost you should Choose adversely,

If you have the time ere night, Think it over.

It may be some other person Will be wronged, If you should haste For you know by the adage, Hhort and simple, "Haste makes waste.'

Then lest you Or any other

Should be injured orabusod Think it over.

Make your mind up in the morning After you Have taken rest: Bleep upon It till the daybreak, "gntand sunny, 'tis

Bright and sunny, 'tis the best.

Then refreshed

Chose well and wisely,

Many have applied the test. Think It over. Countless fortunes have been squandered

Broke a has been Many a trust,

And the owners, later fallen Prastrate, made to bite the dust All because of

Hasty judgment,

Where the parties failed to just Think Itover.

Never do things in a hurry Labor well, And take your time You who fain would, true and honest. Earn the dollar and the dime

This apples To every station,

Every land and every cllne. Think It over.

Edith Warner:

A STOKY OP THE WAR.

[George E. Walsh In Brooklyn Magailne.] It had been a hot, sultry, day, and the rays of tho sun had poured down unmercifully on the Blunting roof of the old hospital, until the Interior of the building seomed like a heated oven. The windows and doors had been thrown wide open from early morning, and artificial means employed to start a current of air through the long halls but tho restless toss rigs about and feverish cries of the patients told only too plainly how inetlectutl had boon our labors. If we, who were In sound health, found the heat almost unbearable, what must the fever-racked patients have felt! This thought had frequently occurred to ine, a* I moved from ward to ward, administering to the wants of the sick ones, and trying to choor them with a word of comfort. The poor fellow would look up at moat sucn times with a faint attempt to smile, but their words would die away on their lips in an indistinct murmur.

Toward evening tho air became a little oooler, and a few of the weaker ones sank back upon their couches exhausted, and fell into an uneasy slumber, from which they would occasionally awaken with a start. The rest lay on their backs and quietly watched tho great orb of day slowly sinking to rest in the west, and enjovod tho cool oveniug breeze. I was standing by tho couch of one of these sleepless patients, as the day slowly eamo to a close, trying to Interest him In tho beauty of the landscape. He was a handsome man of about forty-five, with tho unmistakable signs of wasting consumption markod upon his clear cut features. We had recelvod him into the hospital throe days before, when ho had come to us and asked permission to spend his last few days under our roof, where he knew that he would receive the bost of treatment. He had plenty of money about him, and intimated that wo could draw upon his bank for all funeral oxpensos. He said that he was alone in the world, and had neither friends nor relatives.

The sad story of the man touched my heart, and afte'r he was admitted to the hospital I took exceptional interest in his case, and tended him constantly. Ilut I soon found hltn a very nuiet man, remaining in tho same position on the couch for hours at the time, without speaking a word or withdrawing his eyes from one object. He loved to gaxe out of the window at the distant woods, and drink in tho morning and evening breeses that swopt up from the river with truly refreshing eagernoss. "This is a beautiful evening after such a hot dav," he murmured, more to himself than to me, as lie watchod the last ram of the sun disappear. •'Yes" I said, half hesitatingly "the air is growing cooler, and the river hreese is very refreshing. You seem to enjoy tho view from this window."

After a short pause he replied, in a slow, despondent tone, "Yes, I do. It was not far from here that I was born and brough up. These same hill have often re-ee-hooa with my boyish shouts, and before the war I used to roam over them everv day of my life." "Indeed?' I replied, my interest being aroused bv the man's familiarity with the place "vou are, then, a native of this State. You have not lived around here lately?" "No, I have not been in the place before for nearly fifteen years,* he responded. "I could not return until I was readv to die. The remembrance of the pleasures that 1 have experienced here once would have driven me craay. My life has been an active one, and I have drifted about among all classes of people but I could never forget my old home and tho cause that drove me away from it."

The man did not seem unwilling to relate his story to me, and so I did not hosttate to question him further concerning his life. For several minutes he remained in doubt, looking me closely in the face with his mournful eyes, ana then he began in his slow way, and related the following account of his life: "It is unn ssary for me to give you mv true name," he said, "for my family and friends have all been exterminated bv tho tale war, and there remains none in this section of the country who would recognise me. My father was at on© time justice of thla town, and vested with considerable power and influence. He had worked his way up from a poor boy to a respectable station in life. Bydint of hard work and economy he accumulated a small fortune, and this he intended to spend upon me, hia only eon, and give me the education that was denied him in his early life. I was educated in the public school until I waa fifteen, and then I had a private tutor. Kdlth Warner, my second cousin, lived with us, and we learned our lesaons together and recited them to our strict old tutor. She waa a small, graceful girl,

with great dark eyes and black hair. Like many other children thrown together so closely in early life, we formed a mutual attachment for each other, and pledged our loves. This attachment continued until I left for school. We then parted with many tears, and renewed vows to be true to each other. Father had secured my appointment to West Point, and I waato go and become a cadet. The life of* an officer in the United States Army pleased my romantic turn of mind, and I looked forward to the new life with joy. I pictured to myself the impression that I would make on the mind of little Edith, when I should return with my military clothes and experience—a full-fledged graduate of the great military school. Then, I thought, we would get married, and probably settle down In some Western State. A thousand other fancies passed through my brain, and my head was nearly turned with happiness. My first year away from home proved a severe one to me, and I wrote many loving letters home, telling about the hardships I had to endure. Then I gradually became accustomed to the new life, ana 1 rather enjoyed it. I made the acquaintance of many new companions, and entered into a round of gayeties that was any thing but beneficial to me. My vaca tlons during my last two years' stay at the institution were not spent at home, as I had been accustomed to do but I accepted the invitations of my friends to pass the warm months either in travelling or stay with them at their Northern homes. father advised me to do this, as he was anxious for me to see something of the country before I graduated. But when the last turn closed, and I had passed creditably all my examinations I started South with a light heart. dearly wanted to see the ones at home, and especially Edith, whom I heard from several sources had beautiful woman. "When I finally reached the old house, and held her small hand In mine, I was forced to acknowledge that these reports had not been exaggerated. I thought that I had never beheld a more fascinating woman than Edith had grown to be. Her skin was pure and white as satin, and her long waves of dark hair and brilliant eyes betrayed her warm, Southern nature. She looked at me with merry eyes, when I went up to her on that first day of my return, and holding out her hand, she said,

grown into a

glad to see you again, John.' "I could not express my happiness in words, so I took the warm hand and pressed it lovingly. She drew It back reproachfully, and then began to inquire about my new life, becoming more and more animated in her conversation. I entered Into the spirit of her talk, and related my little experiences at the military school, and told her about my acquaintances thero. She listened to all attentively, and smiled in a bewitching way. I tried to enter upon the old freedom of intercourse with her that I had enjoyed In earlier days. I wondered if she still loved me, for I madly loved her, and the thought of possessing her made me delerlous with joy. But she treated me in such a friendly and yet distant way that I was afraid to mention the subject to her, and remind her of our youthful promises. Her manner piqued and pained me. "One day we wero sitting together in the small summer-house near this river, when I determined to speak to her about the question that was nearest to my heart. 'Edith,' I said,

4you

remembor how

wo used to sit here before I left for West Point and talk about our future lives, dontyou?' 'Oh, yes,' she replied 'wo were like two sillv geese then, talking about questions that we were so ignorant of. I've often laughed about those fancies that we hacl then.' "I felt the blood rushing to my forehead as I heard hor say this, but I determined to go one step further. "'We vowed to love each other thon, forever,' I said, as Indifferently as possible. 'You said that you loved me, and and would always love me. Do you remember, Edith?' "'Certainly, John. But time changes everything,' she replied. Then witn a merry laugh she darted out of tho sum-mer-house, and tripped lightly toward tho house. "It was evident to me then that she did not love me, and was afraid that I wanted to keep her to her early vows. This I would not do under any conditions, and so I determined not to mention tho subject to hor again. If I could get an appointment In the army, I would

West and not inoet her again, with ler bewitching eyes and face. "About this time the agitation between the North and tho South was assuming great importance, and the threatenings of war became louder every dav. Father was stonglv In favor of the South, and declared that if his 8tate seceded he would shoulder a musket and enlist himself. I could not sympathise with him. My mother bad been a New York

Irl, and her influence and my educa.lon at West Point combined to make me throw my voice In favor of the North. I oouid not see the justice of the South demands, and tried hard to make father see it in that light but my efforts were only productive of numerous quarrels between us. Wo were both set in our opinions, and would not recede an inch from the stand we had taken. But I refrained from entering into conversation about the much-disputed question when I dlscoved that It was likely to create a rupture In the family, and so we lived on happily together, although the news that reached us from various parts of tho country affected us very differently. I hoped and trusted that was might be averted, and the whole question settled on the floor of Congress. Father was different his hot Southern blood was aroused, and he earnestly desired to see the question decided at the point of the bayonet. I did not know Edith's opinions on the dispute, but I supposed from her cold actions toward me that she sympathised with father. One day I broached the subject to her and had mv doubts settled. 'Edith.* I said, while standing in the parlor, looking out on the green lawn in Front of the house, 'this year, I'm afraid,

III be an eventful one for us. I dread lest war will be declared before the slavery question Is settled, and will have obably forever.' laughtily toward me and

to leave you, probably forever.

4She

looked haughtily towai

said, 'And vou? Where would you goto the North and enlist? 'I would go North,' I replied, calmly, but not to enlist. I shall remain neutral. While my svmpathies are with the North, I cannot fight against my own finally.' 'It is well that vou have that much respect tor those of your own family,' she returned, coldly 'but your flight would be the acknowledgment of cowardice. You are your own master, however.' "Her words and manner stung me to the heart, and I felt wild with anger and uncertainty.

Edith, I cried, desperately, 'do not talk so. You know not what you are saving. I have mv own convictions, as well as vou, and I "cannot give them up It is not right that I should. How strong they are, you can judge, when I «ay that I wonld give up my home and family and all rather than surrender them tike a weakling. Ton would not, could not

respect me if I did. You, who are so strong in your own mind, would despise me if I should prove such a coward. You know that my heart is here with those whom I am bound to love, and you—Edith, I love you—love you madly.' "She gave a disdainful wave of her hand, and motioned me to stop. Her brilliant eyes seemed to shine with fire, and her bosom pulsated with strong emotion. 'I want to bear no more. Go, and seek safety on some neutral ground. But I shall remain at my post.' "She hurried out of the room as she said this, and left me alone. I remained seated near the window until after midnight, and then I turned wearily to my room. "The next week the firing on Fort Sumter was flashed on the wires over the country, and I knew that the long-dread-ed separation was at hand. The events of the next few weeks followed rapidly, one after another, and the North and South were facing each other in deadly conflict. My views of the struggles were well known around here, and as I passed through the streets I was pointed out as a man worthy of death. As the intensity of the conflict became deeper and the hatred more bitter, I found that I would havo to seek other quarters than my native village and so I packed up my things and started for New- York. It was my intention to stay there in comparative seclusion, and watch the fight of my own country. The idea of enlisting and going to fight against my own relatives seemed too horrible to me to entertain for a moment. I banished the thought as soon as it entered my head but it was difficult to remain quiet when the whole country was excited, and every day brought reports of terrible conflicts. "Somehow it leaked out that I was a raduate from West Point, after staying

New York for a month or two, and I was beset on every side by my friends to take charge of a volunteer regiment just starting for the South. This! refused to do but my refusal did me but little good. I was soon drafted foi1 the army, and it was impossible for me to purchase my release. I had to accept my fate, and return once more to the country whleh I had fled from, not as a friend, but an au enemy. "We were hurried rapidly from one point to another, and although we did considerable marching and manoeuvring, we were not compelled to face the enemy In open battle. My regiment was com posed principally of New Yorkers who were expert riflemen, and we were held in sort of reserve In case of an emerency. We had never been in active attle before, and we showed no particular desire to trv our hand at it for the first time. For "my part, I was burning with an uncontrollable fire to join th» struggle actively but the thought of Edith and father held me in check, and determined not to raise my sword against my fellow-countrymen until actually forced to do it. 'Lato in that first terrible winter of the war we wore stationed near Manassas Junction, doing scouting and exploring service. No fighting had been going on for several weeks, when one day we were ordered to make a feint on the loft during the night. The fell to me, expedition ingled feelings of joy ana regret. I hud determined to do my duty for my

enemies' ion aunng duty of leading this party and I began preparing for the with mingled feelings of joy I hud determined to do my country, and not flinch at anything and when I was commanded to superintend this expedition I think my heart gave a leap for joy. I know that, secretly, I exulted over the matter, and made expeditious preparations to start. My regiment was to march up to the enemies' camp and make a sudden attack upon it, and then, before they could form in battlo order, to retreat amid the din and confusion. This manoeuvre was to direct tho enemies' attention to left wing, while the main division made a fiorce night attack upon their right. The success of tho wliolo scheme appended on my regiment, and I felt the Importance of my mission bs I braced myself up for the work. "At eleven o'clock we wero in motion, and, as we had to make a wide circuit through a dense woods, we started off on the double-quick, carrying with us nothing but our knapsacks ana small cloaks. After an hours's rough journey, we arrived at the end of the woods overlooking the enemies' camp. We 6ould even see their canp-fires glistening in the distanoe. "I was making final preparations for the sudden charge, when one of the officers came up to me and said that a spy had been in our midst early in the evening, and bad just deserted us. He was a boy known in the camp by the name of Alexis, and had joined the army only the day before. I had never met the boy to speak with him, but had seen him pass my tent that morning, as he strolled through our camp. I had no knowledge of his presence in my regiment when I left the main division, or I should have ordered him to have remained behind. As it was, we felt somewhat disconcerted at this news, and, after a hasty consultation, we concluded that the best thing to do would be to push on and make the charge before Alexis could reach the camp of the enemy. With this object in view, we started once more on the doublequick but we were suddenly brought to a stand-still by the sight which met our view on turning a curve in the road. There were the rebels drawn up in battle array right across the road. Before we could recover from.our surprise they began lo open fire upon us. "For half an hour we responded the best that we could, retreating in good order as we did so. I and several of the other officers wore close to the front of the battle, and when the fight became general we got separated from our men, and before we knew it we were prisoners. The battle then bwan to grow more distant and further offT while we were forced to remain passive listeners. It stung my heart to the core to hear the rattle of the musketry, and know that my brother-soldiers were being killed, and I unable to help them. "When everything was quiet again, we were led through the camp of the colonol tent. I determined to face my fate without flinching, and I carried a careless air about me as we entered the tent. The first thing that met my gase on entering was the boy Alexis. He was sitting close to Colonel on a heap of blankets, quietly exulting over his work of betrayal. I glanced at the youth a moment^ and then my head seemed to swim. I brushed my hand hastily across my face and looked again at the smiling boy.

brushed

(ling (x •Edith!" I exclaimed, in a voice of horror, for I bad recognised in the boy the face of Edith Warner, in spite of her disguise. "She trembled violently as I uttered her name, and stared me intently in the face. I had changed considerably since our last meeting, but she easily recognised my voice and face. ""Good God, EdithT I cried, as soon as I could recover myself, 'are you my betrayer?* "She made no answer, but the smiling face suddenly became pate aa that of a ghost's. I thought of our past relations of the last time we had met of her scornful words then, and of her subsequent actions. A bitter feeling came Into my heart, and I turned haughtily

TEHRE HAXJTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

to the colonel, and said:

4Sir,

I am your prisoner the infor

mation has been brought you by yonder spy will you assign me to my place of confinement at once? May I ask what is to be done with mo?'

cannot tell yet,' he replied, respectfully 'until we decide that question, you are welcome to my tent. As for Miss Warner here, you seem to recognise her. Have you ever met before?'

think we have,' I said, glancing scornfully at the quiet figure by my side. "I noticed that she trembled violently as I said this, and coming toward me, she raised her dark eyes to mine, anc said:

'John, I did not know that you were in the regiment—oh, I did not know I should liave never—' "Her sobs interrupted her speech. Any man's heart would have melted by her tears, but a wild, maddening pain was surging through mine, and I rep. tauntingly:

don't doubt it. You were always very mindful of me. Will you take me to ray place of confinement, Colonel?' I continued, turning to the commander, who had watched the scene with interest. "Without looking at Edith again I walked out of the tent, and followed my conductor to another part of the camp. I found that I was well treated, and that my tent was as good a one as a prisoner could desire. That night I tried to sleep but I could not. I tossed about on my couch, revolving within my mind many bitter things. If I should once get free again, I determined to enter into the war with all the ardor of my warm nature, and to wreak vengeanoe upon my enemies. "In the morning Edith came to me with a brighter face. She had secured my release. She told me how she had obtained it from the commander as a reward for her brilliant service. I listened until she was through, and then in bitter words I told her that I did not want to purchase my release from her, that I would remain a prisoner until fairly exchanged* and then I should enter the war again with a terrible vengeance. She remained silent during this mad outburst of mine, and then continued in her softest tones: "'John, do not talk so. Remember our past relations!'

'Yes, remember them,' I cried in aner.

4Your

profession of love before I

left for the military school your treatment of me when. I returned home. A nice love you had!' 'You never asked me If I loved you when you returned home,' she said, with downcast eyes, her face diffused with blushes.

4No,

strain

I did not,' I replied, in the same

4it

was only a momentary in

fatuation, and thank God! I am not tied to you. Time changes everything.' "She started up at this, as if stung by the remembrance of her own words which she had said to me months before. Her face turned pale for a moment, and then flushed hotly. Her small hands clutched nervously the folds of her dress as she arose and made a parting wave of her hand to me. 'Enough, John,' she said, in a commanding voice.

4John,

4John/

You have said enough,

and now be content. I thought you understood me long ago, but your words of aust separate us forever. You have the privilege of leaving the camp at a I beg that you will accept the chance. That makes us even, and in the future we can each pursue our separate paths. Good-by.' "She extended her hand toward me, which I grasped coldly for a moment, and then she was gone. "I took advantage of the opportunity which she offered me, and once more returned to the Northern army. My resolution was faithfully kept. I soon won rapid promotion for my bravery and daring, and whenever there was fighting going on, there I managed to be. I tried to forget my dlsappointmont in the activity of camp-life, and in the mad confusion and excitement of battle. I frequently heard from prisoners, who were brought into the hospital, that Edith was still with the Southern army, travelling around with it as a nurse. Many of the soldiers had been watched and comforted by her, and they were all loud in her praise. Wherever her services were most needed, there she always appeared, and so well and kindly did she perform them, that the suffering men looked upon her as a visiting angel. All this did not help to make me feel happier on the contrary, I felt like cursing my own fate in refusing her proffered love. I knew from her words in the tent that she loved me but my pride had kept me from repeating my love to her. "Gradually, as the war came to a close, there came an insatiable desire over me to see Edith again. My love was eating out my life, and I could find no pleasure without her i' ^etice. As soon as the army returnecl wrUi and disbanded, I hastened to make inquiries about the Southern nurse, who was well known throughout many of the States. I soon founa her address, and, without waiting for fnrther information, I started South to look for her. "My efforts were not in vain. The address was found, and one day I called upon her, and in the most humble terms 1 told her the story of my love. She listened until I had finished, and then, In her old imperious way, she said:

you know not what you are

saying—to whom you are talking. I am the wife of another man.' "Her words seemed to daee me. and I reeled backward, as If ready to fall. The room seemed to swim around, and everything became black.

she said, in tones of agony

and remorse, 'forgive me. I thought that you had ceased to love me, that you despised me. I heard of your bravery frequently, and I concluded that all was over between us. Then I became the wife of the surgeon in our army he loved me, and was good to me.'

4Oh,

self,

Edith l'I cried, recovering my

have loved you and longed for

you since we parted. I was a fool and a bear but gooa-by.' "I seized her extended hand and pressed it passionately to my lips. Then I hurried forth from the house and from my own land. I roamed from country to country, trying to forget my sorrow but wherever I went it followed me. I frequently longed to return here to my old village, but I kept my resolution never to see it again until 1 was ready to die. I contracted this disease, which is now hurrving me to the grave, in India, and I feel that my hours are but few. But it is pleasant to die here, within sight of my old home, and in such good hands."

As the patient finished his story, he turned his sunken eyes toward me, with a world of thankfulness in them. I was sitting by bis side, pale and ghostly. His story bad so affected me that I could not speak at first. "Who did Miss Warner marryV* I asked finally, in a husky voice. "I do not know the surgeons name I never inquired," he replied, looking intentlv at me. "Her name in the army? What was that? Did she call herself Edith Warner there T' I gasped quickly. "No, I believe not," replied the sick man "she went by the name of Annie Murray.**

I waa «o stocked by the terrible revelation that I%at for minutes without

moving. Then as the patient's voice came feebly to my ears, asking if I ever knew the woman, I replied as gently as possible:

44Yes

she died in this village a short

time ago. Her life was made happy to the very last. Her grave is in the church cemetery."

Our consumptive patient lived but a few days after this, and when we buried him I found upon his person the picture of a young woman, in whose features I found a strong confirmation of my terrible suspicion.

It taut (he pictttre of my dead wife

ECONOMY IN THE KITCHEN. [Mary Winchester, in Good Housekeeping.! What shall be done with the fat? Is it good for anything but to be thrown away? To one who is principled against wasting anything the answer to this praotical question opens a wide field. "We eat all our soap-grease," was tho somewhat startling reply of one of the most particular of New England housekeepers, to an applicant at the back gate. Neatness and economy are her strong points, and anyone who knows her would not for a moment suspect her of using for food anything unfit or undesirable.

There are very few among the irresponsible servant race who are willing to take care of this branch of economy. In order to have it properly done the mistress must oversee it herself (unfortunately, this is not the only thing to which this remark applies.)

During the summer the accumulations of fat must be attended to two or three times a week in cold weather a longer interval will answer.

When a piece of meat is boiled the kettle should be set aside to cool, then the fat can be removed from the top in a solid cake. Remnants of fat beef, steak or roast should be "tried out" in an iron kettle or spider, skimmed carefully, strained through a fine strainer, and then it will be excellent shortening for bread or biscuit, or with part lard answers very well for common pastry.

The fat of ham must be thoroughly clarified to remove the strong, smoky taste that it would otherwise nave, but when that is successfully accomplished it is good for any culinary purpose. A pinch of soda dropped in and stirred occasionally while it is trying out will help neutralize the disagreeable taste ana and smell and cause the scum to rise, which must be carefully taken off. A bit of charcoal is useful as a deodorizer and purifier, and of course is removed by the straining process. Clean beof or ham fat is as good as lard for frying doughnuts or fish in. A teacup of this shortening may bo substituted for salt pork in the pot of baked 1 mi' and is more healthful. Rancid or

Lime water is good to sweeten butter that has lost its first purity. Sometimes it becomes necessary to use these expedients, but the truest economy is to buy only good articles for cooking or table use, avoiding so-called cooking-butter. Tainted or badly flavored butter will spoil any dish in which it is u*ud, and the heat betrays its shortcomings.

The fat that fries from sausages is particularly nice for shortening gingerbread or snaps on account of the combination of flavoring and seasoning it contains. A little of it is good to brown the hashed meat for breakfast in for the same reason, and also for boating up cold boiled potatoes.

The fat from chickens Is delicate, and may be used for any cooking purpose where butter is required, for moistening croquettes, or even in cake or pastry. A little added to the stuffing of fowls enriches It.

Our principal victory is over mutton fat, which has been a difficult subject on account of Its natural propensity to harden or "freeze"' when cold. After the cleansing process before referred to it answers very well to fry fish balls Into be served on hot plates and eaten at once.

It may also be used to grease broadpans, and muffln-rlngs or gem pans, and will be found unobjectionable, but should never be mixed with other fat.

Any fat that has been used for frying should not be returned to the crock that contains the general supply without straining, as it would spoil the clearness of the remainder.

Earthenware Is not suitable to keep fat in, as it absorbs the grease and eventually becomes rancid, and will taint its contents. Tin is better, but this must not be allowed to become rusty, which might happen if there were any remains of water or settlings of gravy.

But fortunately for tne tainted bowls and plates, chemistry comes to the rescue and restores them to good condition by Immersing them for some hours in a hot bath of lye and water.

Leaf lard may be bought in bulk at the market, I speak now from the cltv standpoint, and It Is not much trouble to cut it up in small chunks and render It out, with the satisfactory knowledge that the result will bo genuine lard. Much of that put up in pails by unscupulous dealers Is "watered stock,' literally, for, strange to say, lard and water combine to defraud the unsuspecting purchaser.

A frequently called for Item in the prepreparation of puddlings and pies is suet, beef drippings are at nand tney answer

skin and veins, sprinkled with flour to prevent its clinging to the chopping knife, and chopped fine, or better yet, melted and cooled.

GeaOnM»-K to dse

UEM

reurned.

A FACT.

Among the few popular remedies that, have successfully withstood tho test of a. discriminating public, especially sensitive in matters of such vital importance* as those which concern their daily healthy Pomeroy's Plasters rank pre-eminent™ For over five years this well-known^ remedy, endorsed with the approval ofc" the medical profession, has been in gen—g eral use amongst the pooplo, with steadily increasing favor. Its name is indee«l becoming a household work. Beware or? counterfeits. Insist on having the genuine article. •»,.

Most Excellent.

J. J. Atkins, Chief of Police, Knoxvllle, Tenn., writes: "My family and I are beneficiaries of your most excellent medicine, Dr. Kings Now Discovery forCon8umption have found it to be all that you claim for it, desire to testify to its virtue. My friends to whom I haverecommended it, praise it at overv opportunity."

Dr. King's Now Discovery for Consumption is guaranteed to cure Coughs,.. Colds, Bronchitis, Asthma, Croup anc® overy affoction of Throat, Chest anc# Lungs. Trial Bottles Free at Cook, Bell ALowry's Drug Store. Largo Size, ?1. 0*} i:

Brace Up.

You are feeling depressed, your appetite fc»poor, vou are bothered with Headache, your are fldgetty, nervous, and generally out ol sorts, and want to brace up. Brace up, l»utnot with stimulants, spring medicines, orbltters, which havo for their basis very cheap, bad whisky, and which .stimulate your for an hour, and then leave you In worse con— dltlon than before. What you want Is an alterative that, will purify your blood, start-. healthy action of the Liver and Kidneys, restore vour vitality, and give renewed health* and strength. Such a medicine you will ttndBL In Electric Bitters, and only SO cents a l»nUI© at Cook, Bell A l/jwry. t#)

Bueklen's Arnica Salve.

XpOK DYSPEPSIA,

ThelUcst Salve In the world for Cuts, Bruise*,, Sores. Ulcers, Salt Rheum. Fever Sores, Tetter. Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, anft all skin eruptions, and positively cures Piles*, or no pay required. It Is guaranteed to give* perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. per box. For sale by Cook A Bell. (tf.)

CONSUMPTION HIKED.

And old physicians, retired from practice^,, having had placed in his hands by an Knst. India missionary the formula of a simpler vegetable remedy for the speedy and perma— nent cure of Consumption, Bronchitis,.. Catarrh. Asthma and all Throat and Lung Affections, also a positive and radical cure^ for Nervous Debility and all Nervous Complaints, after having tested its wonderful curat! ve powers In thousands of cases, has felt It his duty to make It known to his sufflrlngr fellows Actuated by this motive and a desire to relieve human suflbring, I will senB free of charge, to all who desire It, this recipe, In German, French or English,with full dl rectlons for preparing and uselng. Sent by mail by addressing with stamp, naming thl*papcr, W. A. NOYKS, Power's Blocks Rochester, N. V.. olO-eow 19U.

Itch and scratches of every kind cure® in 30

minuteB

.moil

ing fat should never be used in »king. A good authority says that lard that has unfortunately' become rancid may be completely restored by the use of bicarbonate of soda dissolved in a little water and poured into the lard which should be boilod and thoroughly mixed with it. When cool it will be found to be fresh and sweet again.

by Woolford's Sanitary

Lotion. Use no other. This never faila~ Sold by W. C. Buntin, Druggist, Ten® Haute, Ind.

•ental and Physical ExlMBStiMfc,

Mervonsaess, Wtaktntd Eitrgj,

INDIGESTION, [Etc.

ACID PHOSPHATE

A liquid preparation of the phosphates and phosphoric acid.

Recommended by physicians. It maKes a delicious drinK,.

Invigorating and strength ering Pamphlet free. For sale by all dealers*

Romford Chemical Works. Provide#®*.

I1KWARK OF IMITATiOKft.

R. GAGCfr DKAI.KR IW

ARTISTS' SUPPLIES),

ricture Frames. Mouldings. •Picture Frames MMMB to Order.

Mr Keen's Block. M8 Main st. betwees» flth ana 7th.

Established 1866. Incorporated 1878, W. A Chirr. J. H. WILLIAMS. J. M. Curt

QLIFT, WILLIAMS

A CO.,

MANOTACTUBSRS OW

Sash, Doors, Blinds, etc.

ASD DSALCM IX

LUMBER, LATH, SHINQLE& GLASS, PAINTS, OILS AND BUILDERS' HARDWARE. 1'- Mulberry street, corner ffth.

MARK.

TOO

Terrs Haute, InL-

ERADICATED.

______

to my that flunk

1 «M

entirely wdl of eesm* after

talKd Swift'* SsedOc. I fast* heea tnmbfcd with ft *ery Bute In «ny taos rtoce last apring. At the txcfamtagof cold mlhtr imtt fall It mite alight aw

8.8.8. DO

llMtwctt ItslsobeneetadmrwW«greatfyr joca»e of mck

TMtta oa Bkioa sad Skta DIsaasM naiW free. TNsasaoaMooaaoaauiJ'M 8

LURTA*

but went aw»r and

doabt brok« tt pp: at Uad lt so caaa of side besdaehe. and made a pcrfcct

mjr system la good condition

V. H. J.OBEB.

Hrzcmc Co Drawer 8. Atlanta,